Monthly Archives: November 2017

Surrounded by hearts in mending
Gold seams in broken veins
Pain and pleasure in the taking
But gathered her gently
Woken him fiercely
And all of us joined
In laughter, in lust, in desire
And compromise
All truths spoken and laid bare
Emotions riding the air
Love seeking and binding
A hope everlasting

Like this:

He sits out of reach in his silence
I need his touch
Perhaps his compliance should he be willing
To make him mine
To possess him
Enslave him with desire
Taste him full and soft
To calm his fears
To sing songs and kiss
Hold hands in defiance and trust

Like this:

There are times where I must consider myself a beast
To desire to obliterate your self to satisfy my need for your pleasure
That you desire this as well gives me pause
Because I must consider myself your champion
A dark soul, a brightly burning messenger of the night
But yours
Not as a blade because this is not your necessity
But your tormentor
Your jailer
Your lover
Your protector
I must consider the line to walk between the obliteration of the self into a object of control and service and lust
And my ability to bring you back from that brink
And whispers sweet somethings
Engage in passion behind mere pleasure
And sit reading a book aloud for storytime
You are a joy I never thought would be

Like this:

Winter’s heady laugh shakes the too frozen air
Like ice cracking before the sudden plunge to darkness
His Blade stalks streets
Confidence freezing, falling
Breaking in the whispered calm
This cut
This blood
A throaty laugh
Captured in the still
The Blade walks the streets
Cutting the too still air

Like this:

Just woke up from a nightmare, my kind of nightmare, no maniacs or feelings of dread or anything. I have tripwires are the best way to describe it that will wake me to lucid dreaming if those happen.
This was at a vast mansion party. It was filled with debauchery which I’m normally fine with but there was a pervasive understanding that the people were being forced to participate. There were women wearing heavy chain collars described as soul mates of the person they were with who were forced to perform sexual acts on people other than their desire at the urging of their so called mates and both had hollow eyes empty of desire and this element of silent pleading.

All around broken people perverted love to satisfy physical lust. There was no passion or desire just the physical moment of release without any emotional connection. Anyone in one of the heavy chain collars was meat for the feast. These were all the so-called soul mates of others who had enslaved them and destroyed their will to the point where this was accepted. But there was no joy in it.

This is what the general public views BDSM as. This breaking of the will and using of others for pure physical release. And it is a perversion of all that I’ve enjoyed in the lifestyle. Of everything that I am.

There was no love there. No joy. No pleasure. No consent. Just destruction of sacred bonds and me, a ghost at the feast.

I couldn’t act. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t twist the dream. I was awake enough to remember. Awake enough to be aware but not awake enough even to save those people.

It was a nightmare. To me, a living hell. A perversion of everything I’ve ever stood for or tried to convey. Sex disguised as love and rotting at the root of those involved. Destroying their ability to see and love. To see love as something other than this fear and destruction. And any that break free of this, few as there was the sense that the only freedom offered was death, there was only isolation and despair. The bedrock belief that none could love them after this experience.

It was a nightmare of epic proportion to me. I wish I could say that I woke of my own volition. But it felt like I was released.

Now, I want to find that dreamscape lucid and burn it down. Even as a dreamscape it is fundamentally wrong. And I can’t allow it to exist. Which may sound like madness. But I’m a dream walker. And it may be madness but, sadly, that doesn’t make it less real.

I have to confront the dream to make myself sane. To not allow the fear of that place win.

Like this:

I can hear Pel and sexy Sara in the next room. They are trying to be quiet, so I am quiet to. A fox is a sly creature. I slink low to the ground. The brush of my tail sending pleasure through me. Tightness inside filling me. I peek around the open doorway, watching as my Master looks entranced by Sara. He watches her pale skin move and flex. The peach of her presented to me. I know it tastes so good. I love peaches and this one is particularly delicious but I’m afraid. Master said to play in the other room. But I want to watch. If he catches me, he will beat me. And I will moan and cry and beg…for him to take me. For her to devour me. I am just a little fox and they are tigers who will eat me all up. I feel myself clench. Tightening and pushing for release.

But I like to scream when I cum and if I scream they will hear me. And I want to watch.

She’s licking up my excitement juices. And I half moan then go still waiting to see if they heard me. She could lick it straight from me. It would be so much easier. I shudder and clench the orgasm building wave on wave as I watch my two people play.

He’s hurting her and I whimper. I don’t want to be hurt just because. A part of me starts chanting ‘I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good’. Over and over.

I close my eyes and push against the memory of my old master hurting me. I was good and he still hurt me. I begged him and he hurt me. I cried our safe word and he hurt me.

I crawl away from the doorway. Into my pen. I curl myself tightly in a ball and feel the tears coursing down my throat and the soft sounds pulling from my throat. I hug the huge stuffed animal fox to my chest and try to hide.

I don’t know how long it’s been. I feel a shadow over me and I see my old master and I cringe back. But then I hear the soft honey voice of Pel, “Tara, come back to us. You’re home. You’re safe.”

I burst out sobbing and I hear the pen door open.
Pel pulls me into his lap and strokes my hair.

He starts humming a little song and then sings, “Tara, my little fox, she’s safe, from all harm.
She lives, with a wolf, who’ll eat the bad men.”

He sings the little song over and over and I feel soft hands hold me and a warm body press against me.
Sara whispers in my ear, “Our little fox. We will protect you. The bad man is gone. You are safe.”

Like this:

I worry. I worry that whatever I am. This creature, this person I have chosen to be. This person I have actively defined by my choices.
I worry that when you finally see me, all that structure and facade will fall away and you’ll be left with what I am.

And all of that is a lie. It’s a lie that my fear tells my heart because it needs to maintain its control. But it is a lie.

I have constructed myself but it was like chipping away at a hunk of marble. I didn’t build a structure on top of a structure. There is no facade. There is just this false feeling of being an imposter. Because if I’m all that I am and then I fail it will be because I was not enough. Or because what I am is not what is desired. And that is my fear. Not that something I’ve done or not done will be the cause of rejection but that despite it all. Despite who I am, I am somehow not what is wanted.

That’s the fear. It’s not that I am an imposter and will be found out. It’s that I’m NOT and despite it all will still be found wanting. And I can’t do anything about that. I can be me. I can show up and put all the tools and processes and everything I am and if it’s still not enough, then we’re just not meant to be. Not meant to click and choose each other.

And seeing that now, I wonder at what I was afraid of? Afraid that I’d be rejected by someone who won’t, who can’t see me? Can’t value me?

There might be pain because I will have invested emotionally but if you can’t love who I am, why should I allow that to hurt me. It should instead free me. And it does

Like this:

Motes rush in binding to receptors filling the spaces too small and too big
Binding and converting
Feeding the colossal thing
Towering deeply
Landscape rises
Unsettling and disturbing
The too fast drumbeat
Driving more and more to sacrifice to this abominable thing
Structures bend and shake
The shift and tremble
Waves cascade into whirlpools of white and the darkest abyss
Popping and crackling fills the sky
The leviathan awakes